People who know me and also read this blog have asked me a couple times now what I think about TLC’s “Here Comes Honey Boo Boo.” I haven’t been able to respond because I really wasn’t sure what I thought. I needed to marinate. Also, I hadn’t seen the show until I watched the 3 episodes available online the other day. (I ditched cable. I regret it.)
I became familiar with Honey Boo Boo Child when my friend Andy posted the original “a dolla makes me holla!” video on my Facebook page with a message that said “that kid you gave up for adoption is on Toddlers and Tiaras now.” Jokes! Of course I watched it about 4 times in a row, and I felt a strange mixture of horrified, charmed, amused, depressed, and worried. When she grabs her belly fat, I just…I can’t. In case you haven’t seen it (or have blocked it from memory), here it is:
People get so worked up over reality TV. And, in a way, I get it. It’s worse than a carnival freak show because unlike the freaks in a hot, sweaty tent, we only watch; we don’t have to make eye contact with them. (Which I accidentally did at a South Florida fairground freak show. I need to write about that.) And yes, I think a big part of reality TV’s appeal is the “at least I’m better than them” factor.
But what really makes me clutch my pearls and do the whole “who will think of the children?!” routine is the thought that Charlie fucking Sheen enjoys the level of fame and riches he does. Until very recently, Charlie Sheen was the highest paid man on television. He was making 1.25 million dollars per episode of that hideously unfunny show he was on. He even managed to make money off of his spectacular meltdown. And he’s on TV again! Barf. That troubles me far more than the kids on Jersey Shore allowing their drunken hookups to be filmed. Continue reading